


At My Shoulder

by totally_loca



Series: Six Nations Codas [1]
Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totally_loca/pseuds/totally_loca
Summary: George and Owen share a moment after their Six Nations defeat to Scotland.
Relationships: Owen Farrell/George Ford
Series: Six Nations Codas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169573
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	At My Shoulder

“Where’s Owen?”  
Ollie’s question caused George to look over to where Owen should have been. Instead only his boots were present, discarded by his bag where he’d thrown them after carrying them from the field. George trusted Ben to answer Ollie as he took his chance to escape the subdued and shell-shocked changing room. 

As he suspected George found Owen cutting a desolate figure at the edge of the pitch. He was sat hugging his knees, staring morosely at the rain still hammering down. George would bet he wasn’t seeing the scene in front of him but was instead replaying the match and every moment he thought he’d got wrong. He sat down silently, further away than he would have liked but bitterly mindful of the public setting. He didn’t speak but knew Owen had registered his presence by the minute movement he made towards him.

“It just didn’t click.” Owen’s quiet words broke George from his own contemplation of the pitch and rain. He turned to face Owen and a moment later Owen glanced over and met his eyes for a second before darting back to the pitch. “Nothing worked.” George hummed but knew Owen wasn’t expecting a verbal response. The loss stung but they’d get over it. As Owen had told the dejected room when they’d finally trudged inside, they would take the time to wallow, process, assess and then get on with getting ready for Italy next weekend. But this was Owen wallowing; soaking wet and staring out at the pitch where they’d been outclassed, more so than the score line suggested. All George could do was join him. 

“Maybe it was me.”  
At that George made a noise of disagreement.  
Owen shot him a rueful smile before looking away again. “I put on an England shirt and expect you to be at my shoulder no matter what number I’m playing.”  
George stared at the side of his head for long enough that Owen turned back to face him. Owen bit his lip and started to add something, but George spoke over him as he snapped back into focus. “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” George grinned and would have knocked his shoulder against Owen’s if he’d been close enough. He yearned to touch Owen, his body leaning towards him without conscious thought. Owen huffed out a laugh, some of the gloom of the loss lifting from his face, his body also swaying in George’s direction. 

“Screw this,” George muttered, getting up, “come on.” He coaxed Owen to his feet. “The groundsmen want us gone and you’re going to freeze if you don’t get warm soon.”  
Owen staggered as he stood, lending truth to George’s prediction, but leered at him anyway. “I know something that would warm me up.”  
George rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the fond smile from gracing his lips. “Come on,” he repeated, heading back towards the tunnel, trusting Owen would follow him. George could feel the space between them like a physical ache. Usually Owen would be crowded up behind him, uncaring of who saw them or what they thought, but now Owen was mindful of the Covid-19 restrictions and the consequences of openly breaking them.

George ducked into the first room he came to, luckily an empty physio room. Owen entered a moment later and locked the door behind himself, leaning back against it and staring at George. George just opened his arms. Owen was in them instantly, chests flush together and his face tucked into George’s neck. George’s hands settled, one buried in Owen’s hair, cradling his head, and the other flat between Owen’s shoulder blades, pressing him closer. Owen’s arms were tight around George’s waist. They both exhaled and George pressed a kiss to Owen’s temple, smiling as he felt Owen’s answering kiss to his neck. They settled in, supporting each other and relishing in the contact and closeness, knowing that all too soon they’d have to step out of the room and back to observing social distancing.


End file.
